Schroedinger's Cat
by Epiphany3
Summary: When saving one life is worth thousands of others.... Can Sam undo one good deed, and deny himself the chance to go home?
1. Chapter 1

Schroedinger's Cat: CH1. Nobody.

Prologue.  
PQL, Sliding Springs, New Mexico, 2001.

Al's cigar smoke didn't do anything to thicken the already dense atmosphere. He studied Gooshie's computer screen with what little hope he had left. "Anything yet?"

"Nothing." Gooshie looked at Al solemnly, "You know we're weeks past Ziggy's estimation. Her first theory may be right. While the waiting room is empty, he's just... nowhere."

Shaking his head in determination, Al wasn't giving up so easilly. "There's no such place as nowhere--"

Ziggy's smooth voice interrupted. "Admiral Calavicci, your presence is requested in the main foyer."

Al sighed. "Can't it wait, Ziggy?"

"I'm afraid not. There appears to be some kind of... commotion."

"Commotion?" Al sighed, "What the..? Keep looking."

Gooshie nodded and returned to his work. "Yes, Admiral."

"He's got to be out there. Somewhere." Al headed for the door. "I'll be back as soon as I sort this out."

In the foyer, Al got the impression Ziggy had perhaps overstated the situation. One lone woman arguing with a doorman didn't really qualify as a commotion in Al's mind. But it was rare for Ziggy to be wrong...

"Don't tell me you've never heard of it!" Al heard her raised voice as he approached, "I need to speak to someone on the Quantum Leap Project. Al - he called him Al. It's about Sam Becket." She repeated he words ephatically. "DOCTOR Sam Becket..."

Sam? Al picked up his pace, easilly sliding himself between the woman and the guard, dismissing him with a wave of his cigar. "I'll take care of this."

He ushered the woman aside, "I'm Admiral Albert Calavicci. You said you have information about Sam Becket?"

"Thank god..." She looked up at him, "May 26th, 2001. Today."

Al's heart skipped a beat. "What about today?"

"It's the date he gave me. To give to you." She clutched at his shimmering lapel. "He's coming home."

A shower of sparks denoted Al's cigar hitting the floor.

His mouth dropped open. "Oh, Boy."

Sam Becket was cold. A chilled wind fingered up his spine and teased the hair at the back of his neck. His brow furrowed as he tried to get his bearings. Where the hell was he now?

He looked up and saw a flat featureless sky, and assumed he was in a city. He remembered his days on the farm fondly. As a boy, he would lie on his back in the long grass during the summer nights, content to watch the universe silently slip across the sky... a sight rarely afforded to those cramped into big cities.

The fanciful quickly turned to the practical. OK, Sam. It's the middle of the night, and you're standing in an alley god-knows-where wearing no shoes and... what IS this thing I'm wearing anyway? long johns...?

Underwear!

Sam shivered in the frigid night air and took refuge behind a nearby dumpster, praying Al would turn up sometime before he froze to death or was arrested for indecency.

The 20 minute wait before he heard the sound of the imaging chamber door opening seemed more like 20 years.

"Sam!" Al yelped excitedly, "You're not going to believe--"

"Al! thank god..." Sam glanced around frantically, still paranoid someone was going to spot him, and more importantly, what he wasn't wearing. "Find me some clothes."

Sam's Furmi suit didn't seem that stange to Al. "You've got clothes."

"I've got underwear!" Sam insisted through clenched teeth.

"That's not underwear, Sam, that's--"

Sam wasn't interested in a discussion on fashion, particularly with someone who looked like he'd been standing in a dye factory when a bomb went off. "Clothes, Al! NOW!"

"OK, OK ..." Al chomped on his cigar and muttered to himself as he consulted the handlink, "According to Ziggy's scan..." he pointed to somewhere behind Sam, "Two fences that-a-way. There's a clothes line."

Sam peered over the fence tentatively and sighed. If streaking through two backyards in his underwear and stealing some poor person's laundry wasn't going to get him arrested... He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, steeling himself for the task at hand. He heard the handlink squawk behind him.

"Coast is clear, Sam. If you're going, now's the time."

Sam heaved himself over the fence and sprinted to the next boundary, thankful to find himself concealed by shadows. It was only when he got his first look at the array of clothes hanging in the next yard, that he realised he didn't have a clue what might be appropriate.

Al appeared, a mauve and lime shimmering spectre floating amongst the clothes, and made a few questionable suggestions.

Sam glanced nervously at the surrounding darkened windows. He climbed over the next fence as quietly as he could, snatched a few of Al's darker coloured items, then dissappeared into the night.

When Al caught up with him, he was pulling on his ill-gotten black levis. "You should have got the purple sweater, Sam. I'm sure it's your colour."

Sam sighed as he pulled a dark sweater over his head, which turned out a little too big for him. "I'd rather not draw any attention to myself at the moment."

"Oh. So you dress like a cat burglar?"

"Shoes." Sam answered simply.

"Huh?"

Sam pointed at his bare feet, "I need shoes."

"Oh!" Al consulted the hand link once more.

A blood-curdling scream split the silence of the evening.

Al and Sam stared at each other in shock a moment.

"What was that?" Al checked his handlink

"I don't know - check it out!"

Al blinked out.

Sam took off running in the direction the sound.

Al appeared in front of him again, frantically pointing and waving, "this way, Sam!"

Another scream reached his ears as he rounded the corner. In the distance he could see two figures struggling. A hefty man overcoming a woman.

Now powered by adrenalin, Sam upped his pace "Hey!" he yelled, even though his lungs burned with the effort of running, "Stop!"

Thankfully, the challenge alone was enough to make the attacker scurry into the darkness. Sam let out a sigh of relief and slowed to a jog.

"Are you alright?" He puffed as he watched a woman pick up scattered papers with shaking hands.

"Yes. Thank you." She sounded close to cracking.

Sam looked at Al for guidance.

Al shook his head. "Ziggy hasnt a clue who she is, Sam. Get more."

Sam watched her straighten, and cram a handful of crumpled papers into a satchel. She was small, hiding behind long dark cury hair.

Noticing her torn clothes, Sam stripped off the sweater he'd gone to great pains to obtain and offered it to her, "Your clothes ... here... take this."

She shook her head, pushing his offer away, and went back to collecting the papers littering the sidewalk. Sam put his sweater back on and did the same, keeping an eye on her rather than paying much attention to what he was collecting.

After a minute or so of silence, he asked gently, "What happened?"

"I don't know. I'd just pulled up in my car, and he reefed me out by the hair and started attacking me." She wiped a tear away, and let out a shaky breath, "If you'd not scared him off..."

Sam picked up a broken pair of spectacles from the road and offered them to her, "Are these yours?"

She nodded, "I have a spare pair inside. I live across the street."

"We'd better get you inside, then. Call the police."

She finally looked up at him, her dark doe-like eyes only made him more docile. "No police."

Under the streetlight, Sam noted the red mark on her chin that was sure to become a bruise.

Her head tipped to the side a moment as she studied him. "Do I know you? You look... familiar."

"Unlikely, Sam" Al piped in.

Sam shook his head, "I dont think so."

"Dr Becket? Sam Becket? Right?"

"well. Apparently she DOES know you." Al commented.

Too stunned to speak, Sam just stood there in shock.

"That's it!" she became more animated, "I caught your lecture on Quantum String theory... must have been more than a year ago. Fascinating insight. I'd been hoping to catch you again... but the word was the government had you holed up on some secret reseach project."

Sam glanced down at the papers he was still holding. He recognised some basic quantum equasions, plus a couple he'd need a few minutes to get his head around. Still shell-shocked, he staggered over to the car and checked his reflection in the side mirror, forgetting how strange that might seem to someone watching. "Why didn't you tell me?" he managed a whispered aside to Al.

"Don't blame me." Al threw his hands up, "Everytime I tried to fill you in, it was get me this, Al, get me that, Al..."

"I have to tell you who you are?" A confused female voice came from behind him.

"No..." Sam tore himself away from his reflection, then lent against the car and gave her a shy smile. "Sam Beckett." he offered his hand.

She took it, "Amy Westman."

Sam glanced at Al, then passed the rest of her papers to her, "Here... these are yours... Are you sure you're going to be alright?"

She nodded. "Would you like to come inside? I can rustle up some hot chocolate."

That was exactly what Sam wanted to do. He wanted to keep an eye on her for shock, he wanted to be out of the cold. But he also knew he had to talk to Al. "Maybe another time... I'm... meeting a friend."

"At 2am?"

"well ..." he flustered for an excuse. "I'm a little late..."

She seemed more collected now. She dug into her pocket and handed him a card. "You're welcome anytime. If you don't mind having your ear bent, I'd love the chance to run some theories past you. We're close to a breakthrough in quantum-matter transference."

"What does that mean?" Al piped in.

Sam glanced at Al, but didn't elaborate. He just smiled at her instead. "I hope we can do that soon. I confess, I'm very curious."

He walked her across the road to the door of her apartment. "Sure you're OK?"

"Positive. Thanks." She gave him a final look before disappreaing into her apartment block.

Sam took a deep breath and started walking. "Was that why I was here? I should leap now, right?"

"Ziggy doesn't think so. In fact, Ziggy hasn't any idea why you're here - or HOW you're here for that matter."

"How...?" Sam slowed as his real predicement dawned on him, and faced Al, "Who's in the waiting room?"

"umm..." Al poked at the handlink, even though he already knew the answer, "err ... That would be... umm... Nobody."


	2. Chapter 2

Schroedinger's Cat: CH 2. Any Port.

"Nobody!" Sam started pacing again, "That can't be... If my body is here as well... How can I possibly know what to change? Even if I knew that, how can I integrate without a current identity? what year is it?"

Al check his handlink again. "1993"

"I can't be me. I've never been here in my life. I'm supposed to be in New Mexico. What if... I'm here to help me? so I should..." he glanced at Al hopefully, "Tell myself to stay out of the accelerator? I could go home, right?" Sam pulled up at a bus stop and sat down slowly as he thought, "If I never started leaping in the first place..."

Shaking his head at such a desperate jump, Al consulted his hand link, "Ziggy says it's a nice theory... but she wouldn't recommend you coming into contact with Dr. Beckett circa 1993. Even if that was a stable phenomena --and there's nothing to prove it is -- she still estimates the chances of you actually listening to yourself are lower than 5 percent."

"5 percent?" Sam closed his eyes and slumped back in the hard wooden seat. "I still don't remember much about the project..." He sighed. "Let me guess... I was an arrogant SOB?"

"No, Sam. No." Al assured him, quickly, then added, "Let's say... Driven ... single-minded... stubborn..."

"Thanks, Al" Sam muttered sarcastically.

Ziggy squawked. Al studied the handlink, "well, you changed history, Sam. Originally Dr. Amy Westman was murdered."

"...But I'm not leaping, am I?" He was quiet, resolved.

"No, Sam." Al answered quietly.

"What am I going to do? I'm a vagrant here. I've got no life, no home, no friends, no money... and I'm stuck here, aren't I?"

Al ignored the desperation in Sam's voice, and addressed the one part of his question he could answer. "Ziggy says she can help with the money part. She knows all the sports results for the next 9 years. All you need is a small bet on long odds..."

The look Sam gave him in reply could have frozen hell.

"OK... she'll think of something else."

A few fat drops of rain hitting the pavement around his feet soon turned into a downpour. Sam wrapped his arms around himself to keep warm, "She'd better think fast, before I catch pneumonia."

"Go back to Amy's place. It's better than nowhere. Just bide your time while Ziggy works on things, OK?"

Sam blinked at him.

"You know..." Al elaborated, "show a little charm..."

"Someone just tried to kill her. I doubt she's up for tea and crumpets." Sam shivered. "Besides, What time is it?"

"just after 3am."

Sam shook his head. "She's already been frightened out of her skin tonight. I can't do it again by banging on her door at 3 in the morning."

"Have you got a better idea, or do you want to stand in the rain all night?"

Reluctantly, Sam nodded. "Maybe... Check on her first, would you?"

"I'll be right back." Al called over his shoulder "Centre me on Amy!" A second later, he popped out of site.

Sam paced in the rain waiting for his friend to reappear.

"You should go back." Al sighed. "She's curled up on the couch with a bottle of whiskey crying her eyes out... poor thing. Must be really shaken up."

Sam nodded. "I'll go and see her. You go and get what you can out of Ziggy."

"Sure. Don't worry Sam, We'll figure out what the hell is going on and get you out of here."

Sam started walking. He sighed as he heard the imaging chamber door close behind him. Somehow he wasn't confident that there would be any way out this time.

He waited outside Amy's door a moment, listening for any movement inside. He could hear some sniffling, but not much else. When he knocked quietly on the door, all went silent.

He tried knocking again, and was met by more silence. He couldn't blame her for not wanting to open the door at that time of night, so he tried another tack.

"Amy, it's Sam. Sam Beckett."

That got some movement coming from the other side of the door. He tried a small smile as the door opened.

"Dr Beckett?" She wiped one eye with a tissue, and shoved it into her pocket, I wasnt expecting..."

The light was better. He could see her large brown eyes, and finally notice the light spray of freckles she sported across her nose. "My friend stood me up. I don't know anyone here..."

"You're soaking wet! Have you been out in the rain all this time?" she grabbed his arm and tugged him inside. Before the door had even closed behind him she'd retrieved a towel from the bathroom and handed it to him, then passed him the blanket that was on the couch.

Sam noted the bottle of whiskey on the side-table, "Maybe I should make us some of that hot chocolate you were talking about earlier."

"No... you just sit there and warm up. I'll find you some dry clothes."

Sam wiped off his face and dried his hair, and stood by the fire. It concerned him she seemed more interested in him than facing what she'd just been through. He did understand it though. It was a lot easier to give him a towel than it was to face your own mortality.

"Here." She reappeared and handed him some clothes, "You're about my husband's size, these should fit."

"Your husband?" Sam raised an eyebrow. That's all he needed, her husband turning up and finding him there alone and half naked.

She looked down a second, "He passed... almost 4 years ago."

"I'm sorry." Sam had to wonder -- would he ever get the chance to fix that?

It wasn't a subject she wanted to dwell on. "The bathroom is right through there. A hot shower and some dry clothes, you'll be good as new."

Sam decided to leave it alone and headed for the shower.

The hot water was certainly welcome. Sam closed his eyes and sighed as the warmth gradually seeped back into his body, beginning to relax under the welcoming stream. When he opened his eyes, Al was standing right in front of him.

"Ah!" he yelped in surpise, then lowered his voice, "Can you at least get on the OTHER side of the curtain?"

"Sorry, I didn't realise you were... ah..." Al muttered sheepishly and obligingly moved to the other side of the curtain.

"Sam!" Amy called from outside the door, "Are you OK in there?"

"Yes..." Sam tried to find a plausible excuse for a grown man screaming in the shower, "I ... eerrr..."

"You saw a spider." Al suggested.

"...just a spider." Sam waited, but no other questions followed, so he whispered to Al "What have you got?"

"Nothing concrete. Ziggy suspects the documents she was carrying might have something to do with the attack."

"Should be easy enough to get a look at them. Might be something there. Looked juicy actually... something about teleporting molecules by not measuring the original quanta."

"Well ... you've got a week, Sam... before they try again, I mean. You didn't change much at all. History is the same, just a week late."

Sam left the water running to cover his whispering and put his head around the curtain. "So that's why I didn't leap the first time?" he wiped the water from his face with one hand, "Nothing's changed?"

"Possibly."

Sam stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel, "doesn't explain why I leaped into my own body."

"Well, maybe it does--"

"OTHER side of the curtain." Sam reminded Al.

"Modesty becomes you." Al obligingly passed through the curtain before continuing, "Amy did recognise you after all. Maybe your own body was your best chance of succeeding. Maybe she doesn't trust anyone in her immediate circle. So you leap in as someone familiar - conveniently yourself, just in time to save the day. Bingo, you've earned her trust and have a way in to... to do whatever it is you're supposed to do."

For the first time since this leap had begun, Sam started to feel like he had a direction. "You know... that's the first thing I've heard so far that makes sense. She said her husband died a few years ago." Sam finished dressing, then found himself mesmerised by his own image in the bathroom mirror. Were those grey hairs? How long had he been bouncing around through time?

Al's head appeared through the curtain. "You're as handsome as ever."

"I haven't seen myself for... I don't know how long." Sam leant closer to the mirror, "How old am I now, Al?"

"What does it matter?"

"It matters to me." Sam turned back to Al.

Al shoved his hands into his pockets and lowered his voice, "47."

"47?" Sam swallowed the lump forming in his throat and wiped his face with a towel while he collected himself, "I don't look 47..."

"Ziggy says it's because of your down time... and a little help from good genes."

"Down time?" Sam frowned.

"You usually spend time in limbo between leaps. Sometimes only a few hours. Sometimes a week or more." Al shook his head, "I hate that."

"So... What am I doing here and now?" Sam decided it was better to focus on the task at hand "One thing I'm sure of, if it's going to happen again it was no random attack to begin with."

"Ziggy agrees 100 on that."

"What have you got on Amy? her husband? her work?"

Al consulted the handlink, "Dr Amy Westmore, Bachelor of Science, her major was Quantum physics. Her final year thesis was speculating quanta could be copied exactly across space... a basis for a teleportation system. Kinda like Star Trek.." he chickled, "beam me up, Scotty..."

"Star Trek?" Sam frowned.

"You don't remember Star Trek?"

Sam shook his head, and gave Al a blank look. "Is it important?"

"No, it's a TV show, forget I mentioned it... anyway, she worked on some basic experiments under a few research grants, nothing earth shattering. Current project appears to be classified, Ziggy's working on it... Married in '83, her husband Michael Westman was killed in a car accident in '87, which wasn't long after her current project began."

"You think there's a connection?"

Al shook his head, "Don't know. He had worked with her previously, it was how they met. Nothing in the police report to indicate anything out of the ordinary though. I'll get back and have Ziggy chew on it some more."

"Good." Sam nodded his agreement and opened the door to the living room.

"Feeling better?" Amy asked him

He nodded. "Much. Thanks."

Her fingers twisted in the blanket she had wrapped around her, "I wanted to thank you again..."

"Don't. I should be thanking you. I could have spent all night in the rain. So we're even, OK?" He took a seat on the couch beside her, and lowered his voice, "If you want to talk about what happened..."

She gave a small shake of her head and bit her lip. It was obvious she was doing her best to keep composed, but it wasn't working.

Sam couldn't help himself. His heart went out to her. When she finally gave a small sob, he put his hand on her shoulder. Somehow that broke down the wall, and she started crying again.

He moved closer, and pulled her into his arms. She didn't resist, just clung to him tightly, sobbing into his chest. "You're safe now" he closed his eyes and whisered. "you're safe... I promise." He closed his eyes and let his chin rest on the top of her head. A deep breath came with the welcoming scent of her hair. Something less than noble started to stir within him. For so many years, every bit of affection he'd ever given or received had been second hand... not meant for him, but someone else. But now he was here. All of him was here and...

She pulled away, and wiped her eyes, "I'm sorry."

He reached over and caught her chin gently with one finger, forcing her to look at him. Two red-rimmed brown eyes blinked back at him. "Don't be."

"I should go to bed." She said quietly.

He dropped his hand. He hadn't meant to be so forward. He was supposed to be someone she could trust. "Good idea. I'm sure you'll feel better after a few hours sleep."

She nodded, and dissapeared into the bedroom. He heard the door click closed and laid down on the couch, deciding a little sleep would do him some good too.

"..Rise and Shine, Sam." Al's voice seemed far away.

When Sam opened his eyes it was light, and he could hear traffic noises outside.

"She's in the bathroom, getting ready for work I suppose."

Sam sat up and rubbed his eyes, then got up and went into the kitchen where he figured he'd have less chance of being overheard.

Al popped straight in after him. "She likes you Sam."

"What?" Sam poked about in the cupboards, distracted, looking for something to make coffee with, "What are you talking about?"

"When she got up this morning and you were still asleep, she gave you a blanket... the way she looked at you..."

"Al," Sam whispered, "Why do you have to reduce everything to sex?"

"Who said anything about sex?" Al raised an eyebrow, and Sam tried his best not to look guilty. "All I meant was, whatever you're doing... it's working."

"Oh... sure." Sam turned on the coffee pot and leant against the sink. "Good.. then..."

"Ah-ha..." Al looked suspicious, but changed the subject, "Did you get anything last night? Take a look at those papers?"

The papers. Hed completely forgotten, "Ah, no. I didn't get the chance. I got... distracted..."

"I'd be distracted too if--"

"Al!" Sam pulled him up, "I'll do it today, OK?"

"OK." They heard the bathroom door open. "I'd better get out of here... let you get to your..." Al waited long enough for Amy to appear in the doorway, then ended with a flourish, "Your reading..." with a knowing chuckle he vanished.

"Coffee?"

"I hope I didn't wake you."

"No. I'm an early riser. Habbit formed after being brought up on a farm." He poured the coffee and passed a cup to her. He noticed the bruise on her chin was much more prominant in daylight, even though she'd made an attempt to cover it with makeup. "How are you? Are you sure you need to go to work today? wouldn't it be better if you--"

"I'm fine. It was just a shock, that's all." She pulled up a kitchen chair and sat down. "What about you? Have you found your friend?"

"Well... yes and no. I spoke to his office last night. He'll be out of town for a while."

"If you need a place to stay... You're welcome here."

That was too easy. Sam didn't want to appear over-eager and blow it. "I suppose I should go home... but I was looking forward to the break..." he spent an appropriate amount of time looking thoughtful and then nodded. "Thanks. I'd like that."

"Do you have any luggage?"

"Oh - sure ... it's just--" Sam faltered.

"Still at the airport?" Al suggested as he reappeared.

"I left it all at the airport." Sam cntinued his conversation. "I'll pick it up later."

She nodded, and sipped her coffee. "There's a spare key hanging above the 'fridge. Feel free to come and go as you please. I won't be back until after six."

"Sure. Thanks." He watched her for a while as he sipped his coffee. There was something sad in her eyes, something he couldn't quite place. His heart melted. "Maybe when you get back, you'll let me treat you to dinner." As soon as the words came out he could have kicked himself. He didn't have 2 dimes to rub together.

She raised an eyebrow, "Like a date?"

"No." he said too quickly, "I meant... to thank you for letting me stay here. And you did say you want to run a few theories past me..."

"Oh. Sure." She smiled at him..

It was the first real smile he'd seen out of her, and it touched him. He gave her a goofy smile of his own in return.

"That would be lovely." she put her cup down. "I have to go. I'll see you later."

Sam sat back in his chair and folded his arms, still grinning from ear to ear, "Yeah... take care."

"Sam... I don't believe it. You're operating!" Al shrugged, "Granted, it's bad operating... REALLY bad... but you're doing it..."

Sam waited until he heard the front door close before answering. "You're imaginging things." He sighed, "Talk to Ziggy. We've got a date at the track. And I've got a lot of shopping to do."

"Whoa!" Al looked closer at him, "Did you hit your head while I wasn't looking?"

"I'm supposed to gain her trust right? Don't you think she's going to find it odd if I don't have so much as a suitcase? or she finds me pan-handling on the corner? Like I appeared out of thin air?"

"You DID appear out of thin air."

He sighed, "But Amy's not supposed to know that, is she?" He stood, and snatched the spare set of keys hanging on the wall, "So where am I going?"

"Give me 5 minutes, Sam. I'll have Ziggy plan your itinery and get back to you."

By the time Amy had returned home, Sam had a tattered suitcase full of clothes. Despite the fact he'd won what Al had colourfully described as "A wad that could choke a horse", he'd done most of his shopping at a nearby thrift shop, preferring to have things that looked a little worn to avoid raising suspicion. He'd splurged a little on some new things at Al's urging - a new pair of runners, and a decent suit.

He was wearing the latter when Amy appeared from her room after getting ready for dinner.

He let out a long breath, "You look... beautiful."

She smiled. "You don't look too shabby yourself, Dr. Beckett. Very dashing, if I may say."

He found himself grinning like a schoolboy again - and blushing. "Shall we go?" he offered her his arm, and she took it.

"Have fun you two kids..." Al called after them as they left.

Sam ignored him, but could still hear Al calling as they made their way down the hall.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

Sam chuckled to himself. As if he'd ever find himself doing anything Al WOULD do.


End file.
